


Mausjungen

by happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font



Series: Archer High School AU [1]
Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Drugs, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marijuana, mention of nazis (brief), some internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font/pseuds/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font
Summary: Archer High School AU, featuring: Pam and Cheryl in the school band, Archer being the bi-est, and the gayest Ray and Krieger content of all time. Complete!





	1. A Disturbing Development

**Author's Note:**

> Before you start, you should read this:  
> In this AU, the main characters of Archer attend a boarding school. Since they're from all parts of the country (and the world in Krieger's case) it would probably have to be some kind of special academy, since their parents would have to be willing to send them far away, and since they nearly all have some background in science, I thought a scientifically oriented school would make sense. They each have a specialty (Lana, Archer, Cyril: forensic science, Ray and Krieger: computer science, but Krieger dabbles in everything, Pam and Cheryl: zoology).  
> Also, this is a modern AU.  
> Any questions? Comment or ask on tumblr, my URL for Archer things is agent-randy.

"But I don't _like_ him." Ray was complaining to Pam about their friend group. They whispered, because it was lunchtime, and everyone they were talking shit about was present at the table. 

"He's alright. He's Krieger's friend."

"I don't like _him_ , either!" 

Since the first day of school, their group had nearly doubled in size. Last year, it was Ray, Pam, and Lana. Occasionally Ray's dorm-mate, Cyril, would tag along with the three of them. But now, a week into senior year, Ray found himself in a strange social web that included himself, Pam, Lana, Cyril (who had become a permanent fixture), Cyril's friend Cheryl (who was only allowed to remain because she and Pam hit it off), Cheryl's friend Krieger (who Ray had been avoiding since the guy showed up sophomore year and completely overshadowed him in both computer science and biology. Also he had huge, curly hair that drove Ray crazy; one way or another), and now Krieger's friend Archer.

Consequently, Ray disliked the majority of his social circle. 

Pam shut down the conversation when she saw Cheryl enter the cafeteria. 

"Well, if you weren't such a petty bitch, maybe you'd get along better!" She stood and pulled Cheryl's chair out for her. Ray rolled his eyes as Cheryl took a seat without even noticing Pam. Although, it looked like she had bigger fish to fry: she had scratches on her hands, a tear in her uniform, and her ponytail was coming loose.

"What happened to you?" asked Lana.

"Yeah, you look like shit," said Archer. Pam gave him a dirty look that only encouraged him. "Another fire?"

"No...I'm not even allowed in the lab anymore, idiot. I got attacked by one of the idiot ocelots because I wasn't 'following protocol'."

"Yet I'm the idiot."

"Yes!"

Archer proceeded to antagonize Cheryl. Pam joined in Cheryl's defense, and Krieger slid a first aid kit across the table. It was intended for Cheryl to use on her hands, but it landed in front of Ray. He looked up at Krieger, who started to talk, but he quickly looked away and took several band-aids and a pad of rubbing alcohol from the kit and passed them over to Cheryl. He didn't listen or respond to anything Krieger said, and was soon once again invested in his phone.

After several minutes of arguing (during which the fight had expanded to include other topics, such as Archer's baby-face, Cheryl's kleptomania, and Pam's accent), Lana got up and left.

"She's got the right idea. C'mon, Cheryl," said Pam, and they left too. 

"I don't need this," said Archer. He stood and nudged Krieger, who was reading a book. He didn't notice, so Archer left alone and in a snit. 

After a couple of seconds Krieger noticed the sudden quiet. He looked around and was surprised to see that everyone except Ray, who was still on his phone, was gone. Ray looked up in the same moment, and it appeared that Krieger had been staring at him. He shoved his things into his bag and left to catch up with Lana before Krieger could finish whatever justification he'd started. 

Krieger didn't mind. He went around the table, gathering everyone's trash and trays, and cleaned up for them. He often went unnoticed, though he thought of himself as much less conspicuous than he actually was.

 

Ray and Lana were in their last class of the day. It was study hall. They always started by doing homework, but it rarely lasted long. 

"What was Archer's problem?" said Lana as she wrote in her notebook.

"You mean like, in general?"

Lana scoffed. "He's not usually this bad; today he just kept going and going and going. And he's almost never that rude to Pam."

"Well, he was kinda right." Lana looked horrified. "You gotta admit, that accent is horrendous!"

"Said the pot."

"Hey! Although, speaking of pot..." Ray took out his phone.

"Are you texting Randy?"

"Yeah, he came up today to look at colleges, so he's gonna drop some off tonight."

"Randy's going to college?"

"Nah. He's just scouting for customers."

"That's..."

"I know. He's about ten times dumber than me, but I guarantee he'll end up ten times richer." Lana rolled her eyes.

 

That evening, while looking for his hairbrush, Ray found Krieger's first aid kit in his bag. He must've shoved it in there in his haste. He grimaced at the idea of having to interact with Krieger. He decided to drop it off to his dorm on the way to meet Randy, since he knew he usually stayed at the lab until lights-out. The idea of dealing with the roommate (a large and long winded boy everyone called Bilbo, only half-endearingly) wasn't the most pleasant, but it was bearable. 

Of course, as luck would have it, Krieger answered the door. His five o'clock shadow had increased significantly since lunch.

"Hello," he said. He ran a hand through his hair. Ray winced.

"Here ya go." Ray held out the first aid kit.

"Oh. I thought Cheryl took it. But I wasn't going to mention it, because I have several."

"Cool. See ya," Ray started to leave, but Krieger stopped him.

"You're dressed for the outdoors. Are you...?" Everyone in the group knew Ray was the one to go to for certain items.

"Yeah, need some?"

Krieger nodded and leaned inside his room. He slipped his wallet in his pocket. "Can I go with you? I need kind of a lot."

Ray hesitated, but conceded that two guys going for a brisk walk looked less suspicious than one guy roaming around - he usually brought Pam along for that very reason, but she was busy with her beloved clarinet practice tonight - so he nodded and started down the hall. Krieger grabbed his scarf (a striped, tattered garment that Ray hated even more than the hair) and followed.

When they reached the field, Krieger said, "This is where the band practices." It was the first thing either of them said since they started walking.

"I know. I can hear y'all from the gym when I'm at practice." That seemed a little rude, so he continued, "You're a drummer, right?"

"Yup, yup, yup."

Ray didn't have a followup, but it was fine. The silence was a little more comfortable, now. They soon reached the fence, where Randy was waiting beside his truck.

"Hey," he snapped. "What's that?"

"His name's Krieger, asshole, just take his money and get outta here."

They made their exchanges.

"Alright, get outta here. Mama says hi."

"I love y'all, too," said Ray, but he was already walking away. Randy hopped in his truck and sped away, although there was really no chance he'd get caught. The security was minimal; not a lot of the nerds attending a specialized scientific boarding school were the type to sneak in their boyfriends. Just harmless contraband.

Ray turned to Krieger. "So why'd you need so much weed?"

Krieger hesitated. "You promise not to tell?"

"That'd be a little hypocritical."

"No, I mean...I sell it to the rich guys for double the price. Don't tell them."

"How do you get away with that?" Ray was shocked.

"I give it a cool name. I'll say, 'Now, usually I would only charge $20 for two grams. But this is called...Power Windows or Clockwork Angels or something. So that'll be $100.'"

Ray laughed, and Krieger relaxed and laughed along.

"Who falls for that?!"

"Archer and his lacrosse team, mostly."

Ray was damn near cackling.

Their conversation continued, and it was going rather well. Krieger was delighted. Unfortunately, when they got back to the sleeping quarters, their peers weren't as happy about it.

Barry, whose dorm was across from Krieger's, threw open his door.

"Can you keep it down, please?" How he managed to say "please" so rudely was a mystery.

"We ain't that loud."

Barry glared at Ray. " _Shut up_." He closed his door.

"God, I hate that guy."

"He's a terrible neighbor."

"Everyone whose specialty is robotics is such an asshole."

"Yeah. But he pays even more for marijuana than Archer does."

Ray smiled. They were standing outside of Krieger's door. Ray had the sudden urge to kiss Krieger's cheek, not because he was particularly attracted to him, but because the way they were awkwardly shuffling outside the door was oddly reminiscent of concluding a date. Krieger came to the rescue.

"It's almost lights-out, and I still have to..." he put a hand on his cheek. "How do you say _rasieren_?"

"Shave?"

"Yes!" 

"That was pretty lucky; I'm taking German, but I'm not that good."

"We'll test it out someday."

Ray nodded. "Bye."

" _Auf Wiedersehen!_ "

Ray heard Bilbo yell, "Shut the damn door!"

Krieger wasn't half bad. This was a disturbing development.


	2. The Fight

Over the next week, Krieger and Ray grew closer. Krieger was still creepy and weird, and sometimes said disturbing things that were usually _just_ too vague to be incriminating, but he was also pretty funny, and an alright listener. The only person he wouldn't participate in shit talk about was Archer.

"You have to admit, he's an asshole!" whispered Ray. He, Lana, and Krieger were in the library, avoiding the rest of the group. They were in some new squabble.

"He's a good person, even if he's not good to hang out with."

"It's the opposite! He's fun to hang out with, but he's a piece of shit." 

Krieger shook his head. "You don't know him personally."

Ray let it go, though he would soon be proven right.

 

Later, in forensics class, Cyril passed Lana a note.

_ Library later? _

They'd been doing homework together lately. Lana caught his eye and nodded. She found it odd but endearing that he tore a corner out of his notebook page to send her a physical note rather than just text her. He had nice handwriting.

As she folded it up and stowed it in her bag, the teacher said, "Whose paper is this? I can barely read it." He held up a half-completed page of chicken scratch.

"That's mine. I wrote my name on it," called Archer.

"Scribbling in the name line isn't writing your name on your paper."

"That's my signature."

The teacher rolled his eyes and began marking the paper. Everyone could see he was drawing  _ X, X, X, X _ over each question. Archer didn't care. He had plans.

 

It was late afternoon, and Ray and Archer were walking Pam, Cheryl, and Krieger to band practice.

"You're sure you're ok with us going ahead without y'all?" Ray asked. They'd all planned to smoke that night, but the band was practicing. He was silently pleading that one of them would duck out so he didn't have to smoke alone with Archer. But they assured him it was fine, so Ray had no choice but to head to the locker room with him. He prayed silently as they walked there, entered, climbed on top of the lockers, opened the windows, and began.

Apparently he didn't pray hard enough, because the first thing Archer said was, "So, you've been hanging around with Krieger lately."

_ Breathe it in _ . "Mmmmhmm."

"What's up with that?"

"We're friends."

"You didn't used to be."

"I didn't used to be anyone's friend. When I exited the goddamn womb, I had literally no friends. But that's life."

"Well...your mom's vagina was at least an acquaintance."

_ Breathe it in. _

They didn't talk again until their already tiny joint was nearly gone.

"What I don't get," said Archer, "Is, are you trying to rub your gayness off on him, or is he trying to rub his Nazi-ishness off on you?"

"There ain't no rubbing."

"So that eliminates the gayness!"

"Can you shut up?"

"Ray, you're a Nazi!" Archer was laughing. 

"Shut _ up _ ! That's a dickhole thing to say!"

"I bet you know a lot about dickholes!" Archer was having a raucous good time. "You're like,  _ Herr Dickhole! _ "

"Christ!"

"No, but seriously. Jesus. Seriously...he's a Nazi."

"No, he isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because that would make him a piece of shit. And he's not a piece of shit.  _ You're _ a piece of shit. So if anything,  _ you're _ the Nazi!"

"Shut up. At least I'm not gay."

Ray didn't respond. 

"Because I'm not too ugly to get a girlfriend," called Archer, as Ray climbed down from the lockers.

"You're single!" 

"At least I'm not screwing Hitler Junior."

"Oh yeah?" Ray was officially, bona-fide angry, though he wasn't sure why. It was just Archer. "Get your ass down here and say that to my face!"

Archer hopped down. "I said-" He didn't finish. Ray punched him in the face. 50% of it was for what he was saying, and 50% was for ruining his goddamn high.

Ray kind of wanted to run away after, but he stood his ground. Archer stood up and stared at him. After a moment, he went in for a blow, and it was a fight.

It lasted several minutes, and they weren't broken up until the band members entered for their break.

"Hey, what the hell!" 

"Are they fighting?!"

"Who even is that?"

Archer and Ray sprung apart. They were panting and bruised and a little bloody. Archer shoved everyone out of the way and stormed off. Ray, who was less accustomed to fighting, was frozen. 

Suddenly, he heard a cry. It was Krieger: He'd seen Archer in the hall and asked what was wrong, only to receive a punch in the stomach. He shuffled into the locker room and followed everyone else's stares. He met Ray's eyes.

Ray's stomach dropped.

He ran out of the room. Krieger flinched as Ray passed.

Someone said, "It smells like weed, they must be zoology students," and practice continued as normal.

 

Late that night, after he showered, shaved, changed, and fed the lab rats, Krieger hopped into bed and messaged Ray. He was ordinarily very articulate, but the shock hadn't quite worn off, so the message read:

**K:** What the Heck!!

Ray responded immediately. Although he and Krieger didn't text frequently, he'd been waiting for this one.

**R:** Im sorry.

**K:** What happened??

**R:** He was being a dick.

**K:** He is a dick!! Why does that surprise you?

**R:** Ya well like he was saying shit i cant just let fly

**K:** What did he possibly say?

**R:** Do u really wanna know bc ur not gonna wanna talk 2 him ever again honestly. Like if i tell u this shit honey ur not gonna believe it.

**K:** Yes. I want to know why you two were fighting in front of my colleges.

Ray was confused for a second before realizing Krieger meant "colleagues". His English was poorer in writing. Maybe that's why he didn't like texting. Ray thought it was sweet.

**R:** Ok well basically...

He explained what Archer said, though he toned down what was said about Krieger. No sense breaking Krieger's little heart with that information.

**K:** I can't believe in this.

**R:** Why would i lie hon??

**K:** No, I mean that's unbelievably crazy. But definitely something he would do...I believe you're telling the truth.

**R:** :( im sorry baby.

**K:** For which? For punching him or for his behaviour?

**R:** Both. But archer punched me back  
**R:** So like  
**R:** He punched ur friend too technically so u shld b mad at him too  
**R:** If we're friends.

**K:** ?!  
**K:** OH

**R:** What

**K:** Ignore that, please. We are certainly friends...

**R:** ...?

**K:** Nothing. I forgive you! Goodnight.  
**K:** Baby.

Ray was shocked for a second before he realized he referred to Krieger as "baby" and "hon" all the time. Krieger had never done it back before. It was simultaneously the most awkward and the cutest shit he'd ever seen.  _ Baby. _

**R:** Gn  <333

They both stayed up late that night.


	3. The Haircut

The next day, Saturday, Ray ached. He had several bruises on his thighs, arms, and one on the ribs. Now that the adrenaline from the fight and his conversation with Krieger had worn off, he was really feeling it. He wasn't looking forward to an all day cheer practice.  
Every day, he ate breakfast with Pam so he could get updated on the day's gossip and check his phone without seeming rude (he could fall asleep in the middle of a conversation and she'd keep talking. She honestly didn’t care if anyone was listening, she’d just keep talking).  
Today's update made no mention of the fight. Archer must not have mentioned it. Ray could respect Archer a little bit more for that. He expected him to run immediately to Lana, who would tell the girls, which included Pam, who would tell everybody, God bless her blabby little heart. At least it was man to man.  
Ray glanced at Archer. He looked normal. He was sitting with his lacrosse teammates. He was under the impression that he was much more welcome than he really was. Ray analyzed every face at the table. He'd blown several of those guys.  
He looked around until his gaze found Krieger. He wasn't hard to spot. He was reading a book, which obscured his entire face, but his telltale curly hair stuck out on all sides. Ray texted him.  
**R:** U need a haircut baby!!  
**K:** No can do.  
**R:** Why  
**K:** Mice live there. On my head  
**K:** It's nice and warm.  
**R:** Krieger....  
**K:** Only joking!!  
He looked up. Krieger smiled at him from across the room. Ray rolled his eyes.  
**K:** :p  
Well, it wasn't a hard no. Ray had hope. Eliminating the mane would be a significant step toward making Krieger into real Ray's Friend Material as opposed to Weirdo Ray Was Suddenly Quite Attached To, Though He Couldn't Say Why Material.

Across the cafeteria, Archer threw out his breakfast (mostly untouched), declined Lana's text inviting him to the library, and went outside to jog the track. He was very disturbed by the fight, but not for the same reasons Krieger and Ray were.  
He put up the hood of his lacrosse sweatshirt. It was getting colder as October approached.  
During the fight, he'd been forced to confront something he'd been avoiding for a long time. As they grappled, really wrestled each other, he found himself overcome with the desire to kiss Ray. Not because he was attracted to Ray in particular, but because he rarely had a handsome man so close to him like that. Certainly not such a strong, blonde one. And certainly not while high and full of adrenaline.  
It wasn't the first time he'd had similar feelings for a boy, feelings he knew should be just for girls. He'd even kissed a boy once, but hardly. He pushed him off before he even really felt the guy's lips. That meager experience didn't make this crisis any easier.  
Archer thought about Lana. He was fairly certain he liked her, in some way. But then he thought about what it was like on the lacrosse team. Sometimes, especially after winning a game, he and his teammates would have such sweet moments that he thought they might feel the same way, but they usually just kicked him in the balls to relieve their euphoric energy. They weren't thinking about the intimacy of being on a team, the intimacy between men working for a common cause, as inconsequential as the result of a high school lacrosse game might be.  
He wished he'd brought a water bottle with him. He was running hard. The wind was so cold that he shoved his hands in his pockets and balled them into fists.  
He thought about what it would be like to kiss Lana, who was beautiful. He thought about what it would be like to kiss Luke Troy, a player for a rival school, who could grow the perfect mustache since freshman year.  
He thought about Burt Reynolds. He thought about Gillian Anderson. He couldn't choose.  
No matter how many comparisons he made, he couldn't choose. He certainly wasn't gay, he had no trouble discerning that; he definitely found women appealing. But then...  
But then he fell over. His hands were in his pockets, he didn't catch his fall, and he scraped his face on the cold track. It didn't bleed much, but it stung.

During cheer practice, the girls fawned over Ray's bruised arms (and abs). When they asked what happened, his response was, "There're two answers, and they both play football." They all squealed. Ray didn't feel bad for the lie; it wasn't technically true, but it could've been.  
Afterwards, he was washing up in the otherwise empty locker room. He was taking his sweet time, since he was exhausted, and had nothing to do all day, but when he opened his cosmetic bag to get his moisturizer, something occurred to him. He took out his phone and sent a message before continuing his post-practice routine.  
Several minutes later, he heard the door creak open.  
"...Ray?"  
"I'm back here, honey!"  
He heard footsteps getting closer to the sinks, where he was. Krieger appeared.  
"Hello."  
"Hey!" Ray pulled his haircutting shears from his bag and snipped them at empty air. "Got a minute?"  
Krieger's eyes widened, and he put a hand on top of his head protectively. But he nodded.

After several minutes of maneuvering, this was their position: Having unevenly dampened his head in the sink, Krieger was sitting in a musty shower, facing the wall, with half a roll of paper towels stuffed in his shirt collar. Ray was behind him, outside the little shower stall. The philosophy was that the paper towels would catch most of the hairs, they'd shake them out, and then rinse it all down the drain. But there was an unexpected hiccup.  
Ray couldn't bring himself to do it.  
When Krieger's hair was wet, it straightened out, and was twice as long. Ray was sitting cross legged, holding a strand in one hand, and his scissors in the other.  
His hair was much softer than Ray pictured it (though, why he'd pictured it before, he couldn't quite say). It was a very pretty color.  
He moved Krieger's head left and right, and up and down, pretending to get a lay of the land. He was really just watching it glisten.  
It had been minutes, and neither of them spoke. Krieger didn't want to interrupt Ray's artistic process. Ray didn't want to stop watching Krieger's hair curl up as it dried.  
Eventually Ray focused and said, "I think I know what to do." And he began cutting. Krieger flinched the first few times, and he kept looking down, so Ray had to adjust his head frequently. But it was over fairly quickly.  
"Alright, hon. Lemme see ya from the front." Krieger turned around on his butt.  
"How do I look?" Ray picked up his comb adjusted and trimmed some spots, and leaned back to admire his handiwork.  
"Really, really good, if I do say so myself. And I do!"  
Krieger grinned. He tore the paper towels away from his neck and trotted over to the sinks, tying his scarf around his neck as he went.  
Ray approached him after gathering his scissors, comb, and product.  
"Do you like it?"  
Krieger had his jaw raised, and he was moving his head side to side, staring into the mirror.  
His hair was trimmed, but still long on top. It looked shinier. The back and sides were cropped very short, though still curly.  
"I love it!"  
He turned and hugged Ray (grinning and saying _"Danke! Danke!"_ ), but quickly went back to his own reflection. He kept one arm around Ray's waist. Ray didn't look in the mirror at Krieger, he turned his head and looked directly. He didn't realize how close they were standing. When Krieger turned and faced him, they bumped noses.  
"Oh! _Entchul_ \- Excuse me!"  
"That's alright."  
Maybe one of the various (but similar) scenarios that were running through Ray's head would've occurred if his stomach hadn't growled at that moment.  
Krieger grinned. "Long practice?"  
"I guess so."  
Krieger fiddled with his scarf. "Thanks, again." He gave him another quick hug and a smile and left the locker room. The moment it was over, Ray tried to recreate the feeling of Krieger’s strong arms around him. He couldn’t help it; Krieger was a drummer.


	4. The G-Word

During the weeks leading up to homecoming, Pam, Cheryl, Krieger, and Ray were busy practicing their routines, so Lana and Cyril spent quite a bit of time together. Archer spent quite a bit of time hating that. 

He sat several tables away from them in the library after class, and pictured himself sauntering over and sweeping Lana off her feet. When he almost got caught staring, he ducked behind the huge book he was pretending to read and seethed. 

He’d never been more stressed. He knew he liked Lana, but he didn’t want to make his move until he was on more stable ground when it came to his sexuality (though he never used that word in his mind. When trying to figure out if he was straight or not, he never used the words “sexuality”, “gay”, or “penis” while organizing his thoughts).

Besides, even when he entertained the idea of making a move, he realized he had no idea how to go about it. In his head, he was suave. But in reality, whenever he began talking to a girl, he became acutely aware that he had yet to grow into his big head; literally and figuratively.

He was also insecure whenever they all hung out as a group, because since the fight, he and Ray hadn’t interacted directly. They didn’t usually anyway, but it was still awkward. Archer knew that the manly thing to do would be to apologize, but he was just so unaccustomed to doing that. He thought about what the adult thing to do would be, and decided that even if he never spoke to Ray again, he could at least make one thing right.

He took out his phone and sent a message. Then he got up and left the library.

 

Archer’s butt was freezing. He was grateful when he finally saw Krieger approach the bleachers, where he sat waiting. He noticed that Krieger’s hair was shorter and neater than it was before. He didn’t comment on it; that would be g*y. 

“I got your message,” said Krieger. “I had to leave the mice in the middle of...something. What’s going on?”

Archer paused. “I dunno.”

“Your face is healing nicely.” 

“Yeah, thanks to you.” Krieger had cleaned the scrape when he fell the week before. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He didn’t respond.

“Hey, how’s your stomach?”

Neither of them had ever mentioned the fact Archer punched Krieger, even though they’d hung out several times since the incident. Krieger put his hands on his belly like a pregnant woman.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s been fine; it never even bruised.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Did it at least hurt?”

“Well,  _ ja _ , it hurt!”

If you asked either of them why they burst out laughing at that, they wouldn’t have an answer.

Krieger sighed and finally took a seat next to Archer. “I should’ve set Klaus after you for that!”

“Yeah, what’re the mice up to lately?”

Krieger explained the various projects he had going on (“Rodney let you sign out a bunsen burner and 3 rats at the same time?” “Well, not exactly.”) and they were soon getting along just like they used to. 

"You're such a crazy person," Archer said fondly. They were leaned back, resting their heads on the bleachers behind them.

"You are, too, though!" 

Archer smiled. "I guess so. Do you remember when we were 15?"

"At the agency, after Ms. Archer got me?"

"Yeah, that summer."

"I remember that. You were supposed to be interning with the agents, but you snuck off. So, neither of us got any work done."

"Did you ever miss the compound?"

Krieger thought. "Not really. But I miss my father. He wasn't my real dad, but he was so nice," he absentmindedly stuck his fingers through the holes in his scarf. "He taught me many things."

"I know what that's like." He kept looking straight ahead, but Krieger turned and looked at him, so he continued, "About your dad. I never met mine. He loved Mother so much, though, which is why I think she is the way she is. She didn't want to lose him, so when she did, she just...got really uptight. Did you know that she refused to take his name, so he took hers?" Krieger cocked his eyebrow. "Yeah. John Fitzgerald Archer."

"Wow."

"Uh-huh. I never told anyone that. I feel kinda gay for talking about all this..."

He turned and looked back at Krieger. Archer wanted desperately to reach out and put a hand on Krieger's belly ( _ because he's warm, and your hands are cold _ , he told himself), but he just clenched his fist.

"That's not gay," said Krieger.

Archer leaned in, so quickly it was more like he darted his head toward Krieger's, but hesitated, so they didn't make physical contact. Nevertheless, it was clear what he'd attempted.

He stood and ran off across the field. His ears were ringing. He felt unbearable shame. 

Krieger caught up to him, and spun Archer around. That stopped him in his tracks. He pulled Archer into a hug.

"Don't worry. Don't worry," he whispered.

"I'm not gay."

"I don't care if you are or aren't. Listen." Archer stilled. "You're special to me. You're my good friend. But you're like a brother to me, so we can't kiss again. We’re not 15 anymore."

"I don't want to kiss you! I didn’t want to that time, either, I just - "

"I know. I understand."

Archer was relieved, but still felt incredibly strange. He broke the hug and nodded at Krieger. He couldn't admit that Krieger was special, not even to himself, so he just said "Thanks," and walked off.

Krieger felt bad. He sat on the ground and didn't go back inside until long after Archer was gone.

 

Lana and Cyril were taking a break from the library. They were alone in the courtyard, drinking hot chocolate from the elderly and wildly unreliable machine in the cafeteria. 

Lana shivered a bit more dramatically than she felt was actually warranted. She'd purposely left her sweater inside. Cyril was wearing his chess team sweatshirt and a sweatervest. He didn't offer either.

"You look a little chilly," said Cyril. "It's not that cold!"

"Well, I'm not outdoorsy!"

"Me neither."

"Weren't you a Boy Scout?"

"Technically. I never went on the trips or anything, though. I was only allowed in the troop because my parents bought tons of nuts during the sales. All my patches were nut-related."

Lana frowned a little. She hadn't exactly been picturing young Cyril as a lumberjack, but still.  _ All  _ nut-related? 

"That's still cool, though," she lied.

"I guess. Want some more hot chocolate?"

"I'd love that."

Cyril handed her his cup. "You can have mine. It's kind of gross."

Lana looked down into the cup. His hot chocolate was thick and syrupy. Hers had been mostly water.

Her phone vibrated. Pam was messaging the group chat titled "The Core Group": it was just Pam, Lana, and Ray, the original 3 friends.

 

**P:** anybody got a date yet for hoco…..

**L:** Not even close.

**P:** prediction- krieger will attract a human date to hoco, but the dance will be shut down becus he releases like a wild swarm of mice.

**L:** A mouse swarm is called a mischief, so that makes sense, actually....

**P:** found kriegers date i guess lmao

**L:** God, no!!

**R:** GUYS can yall shut up im at practice

**P:** why are u texting at practice

**P:** slacker

**P:** fellas is it gay to text a man, LEMMe finish....

**R:** Im gonna murder u :) toodles

 

Ray muted his messaging app, and Snapchat too for good measure.

He took a long drink from his water bottle and wiped his brow. This was the last weekend practice before the homecoming game that week, so they were being worked into the ground. He was doing great, as usual, but the whole time, he was thinking of Krieger. 

The worst part was that he wasn't even sure exactly  _ what  _ about Krieger he was so distracted by. He just saw Krieger's face in his head. He'd be doing a somersault, and he'd see that curly hair. A cartwheel, his wild eyebrows. A flip, the zit on his chin that he obscured with manly stubble.

It was weird.

He must've been visibly preoccupied, because his friend, an exchange student named Katya, sat next to him on the gym floor and said, "Something on your mind?"

"Not really. I'm just worried that I'm gonna mess up."

"Don't be. You're the best cheerleader on the team!"

He wasn't talking about cheer, but he replied, "Thanks, girl, but I am  _ so  _ not!"

"Well, it isn't me. You know I only joined the team because we do not have a dance class here? This is not like dancing. Is more like..." she snapped her fingers. "The flipping people at  _ karnaval _ ?"

"Acrobats?"

_ "Da! _ Like acrobats!" 

Ray liked the way she said that with her accent:  _ Eck-ro-bets _ . Krieger had an accent, on certain words much more than others. They didn't speak much sophomore year, but he remembered that Krieger knew barely any English, even though he wasn't technically an exchange student. He'd improved greatly since.

The coach blew her whistle.

" _ Bozhe moy _ ."

"Tell me about it."

Ray decided that if he couldn't stop thinking about Krieger, he'd at least stop thinking about  _ why  _ he was thinking about Krieger. He had other things to focus on besides analyzing his feelings for his new friend. His routine, his programming test, getting a date for homecoming...

And back to Krieger.

He knew what was going on, he was just denying it. For the moment, at least.

 

That evening, he received a Snapchat from Pam: a short video of Krieger drumming rapidly (they must’ve been practicing their routine for the homecoming game), and he screenshotted immediately. He didn’t care that the caption was “drummers hit it harder amirite”.

After a second he caught himself. 

_ What is up with me lately?! _

He was baffled. Why had he spent so much time thinking about Krieger’s bright green eyes? His rosy complexion? His strong drummer’s arms? Those cheekbones he’d die for? The beard that he’d literally, not figuratively, jump through hoops to get his hands on? Or run his hands over, actually...

His first thought upon really, consciously realizing what this meant was, _ Sweet Jesus. _

His second was,  _ Sweet Jesus,  _ please  _ let him be gay. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope u like this fic so far!! If u do u can leave a comment or even follow my tumblr: agent-randy for archer stuff, foods-libraries for general cartoon stuff, or dykeinator2000, my main!


	5. Homecoming Week

When Ray saw Krieger on Monday morning, it wasn't a magic moment. Krieger was sitting alone, eating pancakes, frequently missing his mouth because he was invested in whatever he was watching on his phone. When Ray approached, he saw that it was a tutorial titled "The Basics of Drywall Repair". 

Krieger noticed him and said "Good morning!" followed immediately by " _ Scheisse! _ "; he'd dripped syrup on his pants.

It was typical Krieger. But after realizing his crush, Ray was struck by how endearing that was.

"Are you excited for the game?" asked Ray as he sat down.

"Definitely."

"Me too. But practice every night's gonna be a bitch."

"You don't enjoy it?"

"I do, but..." Ray went on to explain everything that bugged him about cheering, which included several of the girls on the team.

"I would love to watch a cheer practice."

"Did you not listen to anything I just described?"

"I just think it would be cool to see you doing exercises, like flips and things."

"I'm gonna do all that stuff at the game!"

"Yeah, but there's going to be a bunch of girls in the way."

Ray raised an eyebrow. 

 

Several tables away, the girls were having a conference. Lana wanted a homecoming date, and there were several options she was considering.

"Cyril and I would be a cute couple-"

"Considering you're both total nerds." Pam meant well.

"Yeah, but maybe Barry would be better-"

"Because the ole nerd-plus-jock is a classic."

"Exactly!"

Cheryl piped up, "How is Barry even an option? Like, how do we know he'd even go with you? He's crazy hot."

"Because, ding-dong, he's been majorly into her since sophomore year. It would actually be kinda romantic if he wasn't such a massive douche."

"He  _ is _ hot, though." Lana said.

Archer sat down with them. "Talking about me?"

"Yes, actually," said Pam. "But just the 'massive douche' part."

"Well, I guess the Bechdel Test can suck it."

"Shut up, dicknuts, Alison Bechdel is my favorite lesbian! Besides myself, obviously."

"Obviously."  

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “We _ know  _ you’re a _ lesbian _ , Pam!” 

That was a relief; Pam genuinely wouldn’t have been surprised if Cheryl had no clue she was gay. Cheryl was the only non-lesbian Pam knew that was oblivious to a borderline dangerous degree. Of course, Pam wasn’t the most astute, herself.

 

Ray spent every moment that week (outside of class and cheer practice) trying to determine whether Krieger was gay, or something similar. 

Fairly often in conversation, Krieger would say some incredibly gay-sounding things, but Ray couldn’t tell if that’s how Krieger always talked, or if he was just noticing now that he was looking for it. By Wednesday he concluded that the only way to find out was to ask. 

Not Krieger, himself, though. Resolving the issue through direct communication was definitely not an option. But who would have this information? Krieger had so few friends (human ones, anyway) that he actually talked to and spent time with, and even then, he was notoriously mysterious. 

The only people he could picture Krieger opening up to were Pam and Cheryl (as a unit) or Archer. But it couldn’t be the girls, because if Cheryl knew, then Pam knew, and if Pam knew,  _ everybody  _ knew. And Archer would most definitely joke about it, the bitch. Besides, even if he did have the answer, Ray would rather ask Krieger himself than go through Archer. But then he was back at square one.

He racked his brain. And then, like the Black Arrow on a dragon’s hide, it hit him.

 

Ray made sure he double checked his texts with Krieger before knocking on the door. Bilbo answered.

“Krieger’s not here, he’s-”

“In the lab, I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“I just have a tiny little question, alright?” Ray started to step inside.

“Hold on! What’re you  _ wearing? _ ”

“It’s my cheer uniform, Mr. FatFace, now can I just get in here?!” He wasn’t actually asking. Even as he said it, he was squeezing through.

“If I looked into a  _ palantír _ and asked to see the world’s dumbest outfit, that probably wouldn’t be number one, but definitely, like, top five.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Are you here about the mouse incident? Because-”

“No! I’m only here because I was wondering…” Now that he was about to ask, it was surprisingly difficult. “I was just wondering if Krieger ever brings any girls up here? Like, to hang out? Study or something?”

“Hmm...That depends. Girl humans?”

“I - yes, girl humans.”

“Oh. Then no. I don’t think he even knows what a girl human is.”

_ Now, that’s promising. _ “Does he bring guys up here, then?”

“Hmm...Guys as in - “

“Guy humans!”

“Oh. No. He’s kind of a loser. Why do you wanna know, anyway?”

“I’m just curious.”

Bilbo peered at him. “I think I know what you’re up to.”

“Bilbo, I swear to Jesus!”

“Just hear me out! All I’m saying is, if you decide to enter  _ that _ forest, make sure you stay on the path. Because once you stray, it’s all...y’know.”

“It’s all what?”

“You know, tomnoddies, attercops, wood elves armed with - ”

“Alright, are we not talking about Krieger anymore? Because I’ll just leave you to it.” Ray turned and walked out the door.

Bilbo called, “Alright, but when you’re in trouble, don’t call me for an extremely well-timed eagle!”

 

Ray went straight to the showers to mull over what he’d learned. Despite the conversation itself being disgruntling, he got a little bit of information. If Krieger was into girls, they weren’t into him, and that was certainly auspicious. The less competition, the better, although as he shampooed his hair and rinsed his muscular arms, he was sure he could out-hot anybody who got in his way. The Krieger Issue was just a circular train of thought, but he indulged it, until he was interrupted while shaving.

He heard the door open, and looked in the mirror instinctively. It was E.Z. Ponder and several other jocks. They had been rivals since middle school, and the fact that they both received athletic scholarships to this high school didn’t help. It only fed the competition. They didn’t interact directly at all anymore, really, but there was definitely animosity.

Ray could tell E.Z. was about to say something because a smirk curled on his face. As he wiped his razor clean, he preemptively said, “Don’t try me today, E.Z.”

“Why, got a headache? Or just not in the mood?”

“Shut up.” He packed his things into his toiletry bag.

“Hey, be nice, now, or nobody’s gonna think you’re, y’know - ”

Ray zipped his bag and slipped his shirt on.

“-Girlfriend material.” It wasn’t that funny, but a lot of the guys laughed, even ones who just walked in and didn’t hear the whole joke. There was actually a lot of them, and Ray remembered it was Wednesday. They must’ve come from weightlifting club.

Ray knew they probably weren’t going to do anything, but that didn’t change the fact he was cornered by a group of very strong young men who very much didn’t like him. He was rattled, but walked out confidently. They jeered.

As he entered the hall he bumped into someone and instinctively snapped  _ “Move!” _ before seeing it was Archer.

“I didn’t even do anything!”

“I know. I didn’t see it was you.”

“Then what’s up your ass?”

“Nothing. They’re just bastards,” Ray indicated behind him.

“Oh, hell yeah. I hate those guys, sometimes they say shit and even I’m like-”

“Wait, since when do you do weight lifting?”

“Since you punched me, asshole.”

“Oh. Well, you deserved it, you were being gross. You’re lucky I didn’t tell Krieger what you said.”

“He could handle it.”

They both knew he’d be heartbroken, so Ray didn’t respond. Archer started to walk by and enter the showers, but Ray stopped him. “Hey, hold on.”

“What?”

“Uh...speaking of Krieger, do you know if he’s...y’know.”

Archer’s heart raced, but he played it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, is he...into dudes?”

“I said I don’t know! So fuck off!” Archer fled. Ray was just as confused as he’d been.

_ What is everybody’s  _ problem _ today? _

 

Meanwhile, Archer’s blood ran cold. He was sure Ray knew about his and Krieger’s close encounter. But why would Krieger tell him?

He concluded that Ray must’ve told Krieger the things he said about him after all, and this was revenge. He was devastated. A boy more in touch with himself would’ve registered the hurt and betrayal, but he only felt anger. He texted Krieger immediately, not to solve the problem, but to get back at him. It was a simple message:

**A:** Fuck you.

 

The next day, the girls continued their conversation about Lana’s date dilemma. With the game on Friday night and the dance on Saturday, it was getting intense.

“What about you, Pam?” said Lana, after being dealt a particularly scathing roast. “Who’s lining up to ask you out?”

“Don’t be shitty. If gay girls went here, I’d be rollin’ in it.”

“Yeah!” said Cheryl.

Just then, Ray started to sit down, but they shooed him away. He could be knowledgeable, but this was a girls-only issue, and there was no time to waste.

 

Ray went and sat across from Krieger. He started talking, but Krieger cut him off. 

He slammed his book shut and said, “I’m angry at you!”

“Huh?”

“What is your problem?”

“Honey, what’re you-”

“I’m not your  _ honey _ until you stop antagonizing Archer. I know he can be difficult, but he’s my friend. And you should be kind to him if you sense what he’s going through, not everyone is confident in themselves like you and me! You’re just as bad as he is, except…”

“...’Cept what?”

“In Archer, I know he has a good heart. So when he does things, I know why. But with you, I don’t know why you do it, and I don’t like that. I’m a man of science, and if I don’t know how something works...that’s all I have to say.” He got up and left.

Ray was actually shaking. He was shocked, mostly because he had no idea what the hell Krieger was talking about. He actually thought his conversation with Archer the evening before had gone pretty well, save for the weird ending.

He turned and looked at Archer, who was at his lacrosse table today. He couldn’t catch his eye, so he turned back around.

Ray didn’t text or approach Krieger for the rest of the day. Class was really difficult, and practice that night was worse, because he couldn’t focus without a conscious effort. He just felt too weird. What did he do wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked this juicy installment PLEASE leave a comment/kudos!


	6. The Homecoming Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gayest one yet (and it only gets gayer from here)

_ “...Faithful and bold, we’ll always be loyal to the blue and the gold!” _

Lana rolled her eyes as she and Cyril approached. Pam and Cheryl had been singing cheers, rally cries, and the school song all day, trying to build school spirit. It might’ve worked if either of them could sing, or were particularly well liked.

“Can you guys chill?” Lana said.

“Oh, c’mon!” Pam started up again, a cheer this time.

“People are staring, guys!” said Cyril. 

“Who cares? There’s one friggin’ class left, then the pep rally. We’re just prepping the pep.”

“Yeah!” said Cheryl. “It’s pep, Google it, shit-brain!”

“It’s still a little too-”

_ “OOOOOH!” _ Pam began again, and Cheryl soon joined in. When they entered the courtyard, Pam squatted, and Cheryl climbed on her back. They ran off singing. 

“They’re crazy,” said Cyril.

“It’d be annoying if they weren’t such a cute couple.”

“Them?!”

“Yeah, don’t you think so?”

“I’m not sure. I never really think about that stuff.”

 

After class, Cheryl and Pam ran to the locker rooms with the rest of the band to prepare for the pep rally. They played the trombone and the clarinet, respectively. Not very glamorous, but they enjoyed it. 

“This one’s gonna be awesome,” called Pam from the toilet stall. She always changed in there. 

“You think so?” said Cheryl. “I’m not really feeling it today.”

“Are you crazy?!” she threw the door open, fully changed. “It’s our _ senior year  _ pep rally! We’re, like, the queens of the school! More me than you, but still.”

“Yeah...I dunno.” she pulled on her gloves. “I’m not feeling the whole ‘homecoming’ thing this year.”

“What, like the dance and all?”

“Yeah, I thought I would have a date.”

Pam snorted. “Like who?”

“I don’t know. Cyril, or Barry, maybe.”

“They both like Lana.”

“Yeah, but we were talking about them a lot, so I just got the idea stuck in my head!”

“Well, I wouldn’t hold my breath on a dude asking you out.”

“Why not?! I’m hot!”

“Yeah, and you’re also best friends with the gayest bitch in the school. Some people might assume you’re gay, too. And by  _ some _ , I mean everybody. And by  _ might _ , I mean they do.”

Cheryl considered this while she straightened her hat in the mirror. “Wait, so you’re, like, gay for real?”

“I...yes?”

“And you haven’t asked me out?!”

“Didja want me to?”

“Wha-Yes! I’m sitting here, totally eligible!”

“I thought you were straight!”

“I don’t know!”

“ _ Straight _ meaning  _ heterosexual _ .”

“All I know is that I’m wearing blue, so try and coordinate, Pamela.” She turned and left the room to get her trombone. 

Pam stood in front of the mirror. She was pretty sure that in some roundabout way, she had just been asked out by her crush. Her face was totally red as she strapped on her hat and got her clarinet out of her band locker. 

_ What’re we doing? Oh, yeah, pep rally.  _

 

While the student body was seated, the band and cheerleaders congregated outside the gym doors. Krieger was standing by himself, looking down at his feet and straightening his uniform, trying to look inconspicuous. He didn’t want Ray to notice him. 

Krieger was much less confident after confronting Ray. At the time, he was angry that his new friend was causing so much discord in his life. But now he regretted how harsh he’d been. Although, Ray shouldn’t have started with Archer in the first place. Not after the first fight. 

“Hey.” Of course, it was Ray. 

Krieger just nodded. 

“Are you okay?”

He nodded again. 

“Alright…’cause I’m really worried. What were you talking about yesterday?”

A nod wasn’t going to cut it this time. “Archer said that you made fun of him.” When Ray started to speak, he continued, “Maybe it was just a little, but that’s a big deal to him. He’s been bullied before, did you know that?”

“I didn’t know that. But I didn’t make fun of him. Like, at all. I’ve been over it and over it in my head and I didn’t say a thing outta line!”

“Well, what  _ did  _ you say?”

“We talked about, like, weightlifting, and then I mentioned you, and he flipped his shit. I literally mentioned you in passing, that’s it, and he got real pissed.”

It was starting to come together. “What’d you say?”

“Um...nothin’ bad, but I don’t wanna say.”

“I won’t get angry at you.”

Ray took a deep breath. He’d jumped through hoops to avoid this exact situation, yet here he was. “I just asked him if, maybe you’re...y’know, into guys. I was just curious.”

_ There it is _ , thought Krieger. Archer must’ve thought Ray knew about their almost-kiss; what he told Krieger was that Ray mocked him for seeming gay. He was just being paranoid. “I know what he was talking about now.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and you did nothing wrong. I should stop listening to him.. _.Scheisse _ .” He fiddled with his collar (where his scarf would normally be). “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s seriously fine.”

“I just feel like, what’s it called? Like a royal troublemaker?”

“Drama queen?”

_ “Ja!  _ I’m so sorry.”

Ray was beyond relieved. He put a hand on Krieger’s fidgeting one. “It’s seriously fine, hon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

There was an awkward silence of a significant length before they heard Coach Slater on the microphone. The students began whooping and clapping.

“Oh, shit!” said Ray, leaning around the drum to give his friend a hug. “I gotta go! I’ll see you later?” 

_ “Tchau!” _

Ray melted a little bit at that. Krieger had said it right into the crook of his neck.

 

The pep rally was successful (to Pam’s delight), and by evening, everyone was bursting with school pride. The stands at the football game were packed with kids talking, cheering, laughing, and eating.

Cheryl looked over the crowd from atop her perch in the band. She leaned down to Pam, who was a row below.

“I hope no one’s really listening.”

“Why?”   
“I’m not actually playing.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I’m just not in the mood. It’s a free country.”

“That means the government can’t arrest you for bein’ an idiot, not that I can’t hit you over the head with your own trombone.”

“You wouldn’t! You’d assault your own date?”

“Oh, yeah. Damn it.”

 

Just a few rows away, Lana was sitting with Cyril and Archer.

“So, Cyril,” said Archer. “Still no date for tomorrow?”

“Come on, like you have one.”

“There’s a difference between going stag and not having a date, idiot.”

“And what is that exactly?”

Lana rolled her eyes. She wished she hadn’t put her faith in Cyril asking her to homecoming, although there was no evidence to suggest Barry was going to, so it didn’t really matter. Still, anything would be better than listening to these two act like she wasn’t sitting right there. If she had any clue how beautiful she really was, she probably wouldn’t have tolerated it. Hell, she’d have asked a boy herself.

 

Way down below the elevated bleachers, the cheerleaders were stretching. Katya approached Ray.

“Are you nervous like I am?”

“A little. But it gets better after a minute.”

Katya looked up into the crowd. “I’m not so sure…”

“Oh, please!” He put an arm around her. “Honey, you’re such a little treasure that even if you fall flat on your face tonight, everybody’s still gonna wish they were you. But you’re not gonna fall flat on your face.”

“Are you certain?”

“Definitely.”

She smiled. “ Thank you.” 

Ray smiled back, partly because Katya was really sweet, and partly because he was once again reminded of Krieger. They hadn’t talked since their conversation before the pep rally, hours before. He looked up into the stands and saw him laughing and smiling. It warmed his heart a little.

 

Throughout the game, Ray found himself glancing up at Krieger, especially during his routines. He tried to decipher Krieger’s expression, or detect a certain look in his eye whenever he landed a flip or a twist. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see very well from the ground.

Krieger had a similar experience during the halftime show, but he was so far away he couldn’t tell if Ray was even looking, let alone if he was interested. If he was just a few yards closer he’d have a clear view of Ray staring shamelessly, just at him, like he was watching a one-man-band.

 

Maybe it was all the gay energy, but the home team won by a wide margin. After the students left the stadium (though they didn’t go back to their rooms) and the football players left the field, the cheerleaders and band were finally allowed to go. 

When Ray checked his phone, there was a group text from Archer. Pam, Cheryl, and Krieger had already replied. 

 

**A:** drinks in the library?

**P:** we’ll be there

**K:** Me, too.

 

Ray responded that he’d meet them, and got changed at light speed.

 

He crept between the shelves of the library. Everyone was supposed to be celebrating in the cafeteria, but since the chaperones were either asleep or drunk, there were a few people who slipped away.   
Ray found Archer alone with a flask. 

“Hey,” he whispered, sitting across from him. “Where is everybody?”

“They’ll be here.” Archer unscrewed the flask and took a swig. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go tell Krieger I’m a crazy bitch after this conversation?”

“No, come on. That’s actually partly what I want to talk about...Oh, God.” He took another long sip. Ray could see that something was up. He took the flask from Archer.

“Ask away, honey.”

“Well...Okay, there’s this girl, right? And I want to ask her to homecoming-”

“Little late.”

“Not  _ too _ late. But I’m not...confident...that I’m...y’know.”

Ray pieced together what Archer was saying based on the sheer doth-protest-too-much nature of Archer’s whole attitude when it came to women and gay people. “So, what? If you like girls and guys, one shouldn’t affect the other. Are you bi?”

“What?”

“Are ya bisexual?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“God. Honey, the B in LGBT? _ Bisexual! _ ”

“I thought it was LBGT: Let’s Be Gay Together.”

“Archer…” He began, but just then Pam, Cheryl, and Krieger arrived. “Hey, y’all!”

Krieger sat down next to Ray, just instinctively. Ray took a big sip and handed the flask to Pam, while Cheryl launched into a long story about the other trombone player (she referred to him as a “tromboner”). Ray didn’t listen to a word they said. He just stared at Krieger out of the corner of his eye. It was a long time before the flask circled back around and reached them. Krieger didn’t take a sip right away, but when he did, Ray watched his throat. He immediately felt bad. As a young gay man, he always felt weird being attracted to people he knew. For all his pride, he couldn’t squash the feeling it was wrong. Luckily, he had that impulse mostly under control.

The moment Krieger swallowed, Pam snatched the flask from him and stood. 

“Alright, dickheads, it’s a bet!” She trotted off somewhere, and the other two followed suit.

Ray turned to Krieger. “What was that?”

“I wasn’t listening.” Between his fatigue and the little bit of alcohol, his accent was coming out much stronger than usual. Ray replayed that sentence in his mind. _ I vasn’t listenink.  _

“Oh…” He was incredibly overwhelmed. He could feel Krieger’s warmth, that’s how close they were.

Krieger smacked his lips. “What’re we drinking, anyway?”  _ Vat’re ve drinkink?  _

Ray said, “Love potion,” put a hand on Krieger’s chest, and kissed his stubbly cheek.

The reason he went for the cheek was because he was scared Krieger wouldn’t be into it, but he needn’t have worried. As soon as he pulled away, Krieger guided him closer and kissed him ferociously on the lips. He wrapped his arms around Ray’s waist, and Ray grasped his face gently. After a minute, Ray pulled away.

_ “Nicht.” _

“No, listen baby.”

Krieger took a deep breath. “Yes?”

“So, you’re...you  _ are  _ into guys? After all that?”

“Yes. And even if I wasn’t, I’d still be into you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Beyond yes. A million yes.”

“Wow…” An interesting development. “Okay. So, do you wanna…?”

_ “Bitte.” _

 

They continued making out for some time. Eventually, Ray was on Krieger’s lap. He couldn’t believe how eager Krieger was to kiss him. He was elated at the situation, too elated to wonder what happened to Archer, Pam, and Cheryl. 

After awhile, they heard the door to the library slam open. They both jumped, then froze, staring at each other. There were footsteps. The beam of a flashlight narrowly missed them.

“I’m too goddamn drunk for this.” It was Coach Slater. He called, “Alright, whoever’s in here, just don’t get pregnant.”

His footsteps receded, and he was gone. 

Ray looked at Krieger. Krieger was staring up fondly at him.

“We better go, baby.”

“ _ Ja _ ...I guess so.”

They adjusted their clothes and snuck down to the dormitories, with their pinkies intertwined. It was a testament to young love: a chaste gesture in the aftermath of crude, sloppy smooching, but it was so genuine.

When they arrived at Krieger’s floor, Ray hugged him. “I’ll see ya.”

“Mmm...I will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too...”

Krieger hummed. He looked dazed.  

“G’night.”

“Once more?”  _ Vunce more? _ Ray kissed him hard, then turned to leave, because if he entertained Krieger any longer, they’d be there all night. Krieger waved goodbye as Ray ascended the stairs.

Ray was worried. He really, really liked Krieger, especially after what just happened between them. He desperately hoped Krieger liked him back, and wasn’t just kissing him because of the ‘love potion’.


	7. The Dance

The next morning was the day of the homecoming dance, and Archer was exhausted. He’d been up all night on his phone, reading and researching. After extensive Googling, he’d come to an incredible conclusion: He  _ was _ bisexual.

He loved the way that word sounded.  _ Bi  _ \- so rich -  _ sexual _ \- so sharp. It felt smooth and velvety to say. He repeated it over and over in his mind, and he was itching to say it out loud.  _ Bisexual. _

Something that especially comforted him was the philosophy that a bisexual person isn’t 50% gay and 50% straight, but they’re 100% bi. He’d discovered that his attraction to men wasn’t what bothered him, it was the word “gay” itself. Archer was aware he’d have to work on that one day, because even someone as insensitive as him realized that that attitude was quite honestly unacceptable, but he decided to give himself some time before delving into it. For now, he just wanted to enjoy being bisexual.   
There was still one problem.

He thought that what was holding him back from asking Lana out was his labelling issues. But now that that layer was pulled back, he realized there was a plethora of obstacles. 

For one thing, they hadn’t talked directly in a long time. Ever since she started trying to entice Cyril, Archer just spied on her from afar. Why would she say yes to someone she barely spoke to, and quite honestly, didn’t like very much even when they did interact?

Another issue was her beauty. Although Archer got the distinct impression that she didn’t realize how attractive she was, it was still daunting to even think about putting the moves on a beautiful young woman. (He actually prided himself on his nervousness. He figured idiots like Cyril and the other boys didn’t have the brains to be intimidated. They were probably too unsophisticated to appreciate her most subtle features: her eyes, made larger by her glasses; her queenly hands; her hair, worn natural, and pulled back into a ponytail with a different colored scrunchy every day; her confidence when she was making an argument, a conviction that could convince Archer that 2+2 was 5 any day of the week.)

However, being a teenage boy, Archer found it necessary to make sure that at all costs, he seemed aloof and disinterested.

Finding a balance between these two attitudes toward Lana was extremely difficult.

He got up and put away his breakfast tray. It was the morning of the dance and he still had no clue how to ask her out, but he was surprisingly unfazed. His recent realization about himself gave him a little bit of real confidence, as opposed to the phony flaunting he usually put out into the world. He decided he’d just wing it.

 

Ray was ascending the stairs to the bio lab, where Krieger wanted to meet up. Over text, Ray couldn’t tell how Krieger was feeling, but he was fairly certain that he was about to be rejected. Before getting drunk, Krieger gave no indication that he was into men, besides the weird things he said offhandedly (and those were probably merely a result of English being his third language). The fact that Ray was one of the only openly gay young men at the school (and certainly the hottest) meant that this was far from his first time being another boy’s experiment. Freshman year, he’d been just as curious as those other boys, and didn’t really mind locker room blowjobs. But as he got a little older, it was less fun sucking a guy off in a shower stall and having him bail after the two minutes it took him to cum, leaving Ray’s boner untouched. And the times Ray had been kissed were drastically fewer than the times he’d pleasured other men; he could count on one hand the number of men he’d kissed on the lips. That was too far for a lot of curious boys. Somehow they could reconcile receiving a blowjob from a man, but not kissing one.

But this didn’t mean he didn’t do it. He still accepted their offers and promised not to tell anyone. He just played a little harder to get.

He’d melted right into Krieger’s arms the night before, though, so as he approached the bio lab, his heart broke with every step. Vulnerability’s a bitch.

 

When Ray entered the lab, Krieger was at one of the tables watching a caged mouse eat its breakfast. He looked up when he heard the door. His face lit up.

“Hey, hon,” said Ray. He immediately cringed. He didn’t want to seem pushy, and he especially didn’t want to seem desperate.

“Hello,” said Krieger. He hesitated for a second but then went in for a hug. His arms were around Ray’s waist, and when the hug ended, he stayed close and kept his hands on Ray. 

“So...how are you?”

“I’m good...I have something to say.” He removed his hands from Ray’s hips.

Ray mourned internally.  _ Here it comes. _ “Go ahead. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to tell you that if you want to forget about last night, we can.”

“Well, do you want to?”

Instantly, Krieger said “Not at all. I’m sorry if this is strange, but I’ve always wanted to be your friend. I loved kissing you, and holding you…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t make you feel bad.”

Ray stared for a moment, like he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. When he did, he said, “Now, why would I feel bad?”

“Because you probably want to forget about all of this. And I understand! I promise.”

“Oh, Hell no!”

“Huh?”

“Honey, I like you back! I’ve liked you for weeks!”

_ “Ernst?” _

_ “Ja!” _ He hugged Krieger. They stayed embracing for a long time. “Truly, truly, truly.”

Krieger sighed into Ray’s neck and rested his head there. Ray could feel his lips on his skin, only slightly. He turned his head so Krieger would look up, and when he did, he kissed him.

Krieger’s kiss was less ferocious but just as eager as last time. He was hungry, but gentle. His stubble had grown since the night before, and it scratched. Ray had never had such a lovely kiss, and for a second he was overwhelmed with affection, both for Krieger and for his own gay little heart. He knew he deserved to be wanted like this.

When they separated Krieger whispered, “Would you like to meet my mouse?” and Ray’s heart almost burst.

“On one condition,” he said.

“Anything.”

“Be my date to the dance tonight?”

Krieger beamed. “Of course.”

The mouse, Klaus, liked Ray almost as much as Krieger did. The three of them lounged in the lab for a long time before Ray left to get ready for the dance (“It’s not for hours!” “Beauty takes time, hon, especially in these tiny-ass bathrooms.”). As he left, Krieger pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. He was so tender. Ray didn’t know if he’d ever get used to that. 

After Ray left, something occurred to Krieger. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his stubbly chin. He looked down at his outfit. He suddenly got the feeling that he, too, would need several hours to prepare. He took out his phone and opened the front camera. When had his eyebrows gotten so bushy?

 

Krieger did everything he could. He’d showered, shaved, spent thirty minutes in front of his closet trying to pick an outfit (despite the fact he had exactly one pair of dress pants and few good shirts), and shaved again. There was an hour before the dance and he was not feeling optimistic. Despite all his effort, he looked the same as usual.

He needed help. Who was the most fashionable person he knew (besides Ray) who would help him on such short notice?

Minutes later, he was knocking on Archer’s door.

The moment it opened, Krieger said, “I need you!”

“Hey, just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I do booty calls.”

“I- Well, first, congratulations. Second, I meant that I need your help. I’m having a fashion disaster.”

Archer let him in. “You know my valet buys all my clothes, right? And they’re, like, tailored.”

“My outfit’s fine.”

“It’s...really not,” said Archer, looking up and down at Krieger’s mustard yellow button-up and brown corduroy slacks. 

“I just need help with my hair.”

“That’s not hair, Krieger, that’s a wild animal.”

“Well, help me tame it! Or does Woodhouse come here every morning and do your hair for you?”

“Wow. Ok, that was pretty good.” He crossed the room and took out his toiletry bag. He held up his hair gel. “Well, this is what I use, but my hair’s about ten times as thick and luxurious as yours so it might be a little much.”

“Anything is better than…” Krieger sat in front of the mirror. “...Whatever this is.”

“Say no more.” He rubbed the gel onto his fingers, and began working it into Krieger’s hair. “Why are you concerned with your looks all of a sudden?”

“I have a date.”

“I thought Cheryl was going with Pam.”

“Not Cheryl!  _ Mein Gott... _ We never even dated for real.”

“Well then who is it, ladies’ man?”

“More like gentleman’s man.”

Archer paused in the middle of pouring more gel into his hand. “You mean…”

“Yup.”

“No!”

“Yup! Wait - You’re thinking of Ray right?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, then yup. Yup, yup, yup.”

Archer remained still and silent for a minute. “Whatever.” He continued his work, and Krieger didn’t say anything else.

When he finished, Krieger’s hair was straight and slicked back. Archer had even put some gel on his fingertips and tamed Krieger’s eyebrows. His sharp hairline brought out his cheekbones, and now that his brows had a defined shape, they made him look methodical.

“I love it!” He stood.  _ “Danke!” _

“No problem, Jesus, it’s just hair gel,” said Archer, dodging Krieger’s hug. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

 

Pam was standing outside the gym doors. The dance had begun, and the rest of the group was already inside except her and Cheryl. She checked her phone. Cheryl was only a few minutes late, but you never know with her. It wouldn’t be out of character for her to have forgotten there was a dance going on at all.

Luckily, after a little while longer, she arrived. It wasn’t unusual for her to greet Pam with a boisterous hug, but this time she added a kiss on the lips. 

Pam was shocked. “What the hell?”

“You’re my date, idiot!” Cheryl took Pam’s hand and tugged her toward the door. “Come on, assimilate!”

Pam smiled and held out her arm. Cheryl took it, and Pam noticed a new band-aid on her elbow.

“What happened to you?”   
“I don’t know. Shit. Shit happens, ok?” Pam knew this meant the ocelot was acting up. “Now let’s go!”

Together, they trotted into the darkened gym and met up with the rest of their friends. 

The group was in their own corner of the gym. Cyril was talking Lana’s ear off about something she obviously (to everyone but Cyril himself) couldn’t care less about. Next to them, Ray was playing with Krieger’s tie, looking up at him with stars in his eyes. Every now and then Krieger would say something, and Ray would laugh and squeeze his arm, or touch his chest, and his hand always lingered for just a few extra seconds. Pam knew he was dying to feel Krieger up and get a lay of the land, so to speak. That was incredibly weird to her, but she wasn’t about to give him shit for it. Krieger was an oddball, definitely, but he also seemed like the only guy on campus who had good intentions with Ray. Plus,  _ her _ date was now talking about the pros and cons of dying in a lab accident (“Pro: there could be fire. Con: it could be a chemical fire, and chemical fires are pussies.”), so they were kind of even.

Ray wouldn’t have cared about anything she said, anyway. He was totally captivated by Krieger. He loved the slick hairdo, the terrible outfit, the red patches on his neck where he scratched as his five o’clock shadow grew back. And when Krieger turned and looked at him with those big green eyes, he didn’t listen to a word he said. Which kind of made him look like an idiot.

“Ray.  _ Ray _ .”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, are you thirsty?”

“Oh, yeah, but I’ll get it, I wanna say hi to some of the girls.”

“Are you getting punch?” said Cyril. “I’ll come, too. Want anything, Lana?”

She glared at him. “Sure.”

Ray and Cyril walked off together. Cyril stuck by Ray while he made the rounds, greeting and hugging and complimenting all his friends, most of whom were cheerleaders. He noticed that while Ray talked with some of the girls, their dates, the jocks, looked down and blushed. One of them even tugged at his collar.

When they approached the refreshment table, there was a group of boys standing there. They whistled and hooted when girls walked by. Ray noticed E.Z. was in the huddle and hoped he would be too distracted to give him a hard time. He wasn’t. 

E.Z. whistled and said “Look who’s here!” 

Cyril stopped and looked over, but Ray ignored him.

“This your date? What’s your name, Glasses?” He stepped forward and looked down his nose at Cyril.

“Uh, Cyril, but I-”

“ _ Uh, Cyril? _ ” he repeated in a snivelling voice. “He’s a little wimp. You into girly guys now?”

Ray sighed as he poured. “That ain’t even my date, E.Z.”

“If you’re screwin’ this nerd-ass, he’s probably hung as hell. Gotta compensate somehow, huh,  _ Gillit? _ ”

“I told your dumb ass, that ain’t my-”

“What’s going on?”

Ray turned around. It was Krieger. He tried to hand Krieger his punch, but he didn’t take it. He maintained eye contact with E.Z. “Nothin’ honey.” Cyril slipped away while they were distracted.

“Who is that?”

“He’s nobody.” Ray tried to get Krieger to turn and walk away, but E.Z. had walked over and was looking Krieger up and down. Krieger held his ground. He kept his chin high and put an arm around Ray’s waist.

“This guy?” asked E.Z. He looked at Ray with genuine disapproval. “Outta all the guys, you choose the fuckin’ Nazi?” He addressed Krieger directly. “You think I’m scared of ya? Because I ain’t. And I ain’t fixin’ to be.”

Krieger leaned in close and said, “You don’t have to be. I’m pretty sure Ray could kick your ass, and mine, and still have time for cheer practice.” 

Ray looked between the two young men. They just stared at each other with clenched jaws until E.Z. glanced down and said “Let’s hope he don’t try.” He turned and walked back to his buddies.

“Are you coming?” said Krieger to Ray, nodding vaguely toward their corner. His phrasing couldn’t have been more appropriate. Ray was extremely turned on by Krieger’s taking control.

“Oh - yeah, here’s your punch, honey.” Krieger took it but didn’t take a sip. “How’d you know to come over there?”

“You were taking a long time.” His eyes were dark and he was frowning. He didn’t look at Ray.

“What’s the matter?”

“I hate that. I hate when people do that.”

“What’d I do?”

“No, not you. You’re perfect.  _ Him _ , I hate how he called me  _ Nazi _ . There’s nothing worse to call me. Such a disgusting thing to say.” He shook his head and leaned against the wall when they got back to their corner.

“I’m sorry, babe.”   
Krieger looked up at him. “There’s nothing worse. But tonight, let’s just have a good time.”

Ray smiled, and Krieger smiled back, but Ray was secretly uneasy. He wondered how Krieger would feel if he knew Archer had said much worse things than E.Z. just did.

Lana pointed to them and cut Cyril off mid-sentence. “You said there was a  _ brawl, _ they’re fine!”

“It wasn’t physical,  _ per se. _ ”

“It was a mental brawl.”

“Well, verbal.”

“Then why...in God’s name...didn’t you get any punch?”

Archer nudged her and indicated toward his pocket. No doubt he had a flask.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

“Like you would not believe.”

 

Pam and Cheryl were on the edge of the dance floor. Cheryl knew very few dance moves, each one lewder than the last, but that didn’t stop her. Pam didn’t mind. 

Coach Slater did. He whacked Cheryl on the head with his magazine (the  _ Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition _ from 2003) and said “Calm down. You’re in public.”

“This is discrimination!” said Cheryl.

“You’re in public, with, like, your teachers around.”   
“My attorney is gonna sue this school for all the money you have!”

“I don’t care. I’m a gym teacher. Now cool it.” He left.

Cheryl looked at Pam. “That’s crazy!”

“Well, he was kinda right.”

“Seriously?! I could find worse shit in a - look! Right there, look at Barry and that French exchange student, they’re practically screwing!”   
“C’mon, it’s fine! We’ll do something else. Didn’t they teach you, like, waltzing?”

_ “They?” _

“Yeah, y’know, whoever teaches rich kids what a salad fork is. Didn’t they do dancing?”

Cheryl wasn’t having it. “You want a dance? Come on, let’s dance.” She took Pam’s hand and dragged her off the dance floor, out the gym doors, through a hallway or two, and into a remote bathroom where it sounded like another couple had they same idea she did.

“What’re we doing?” said Pam.

“We’re dancing.” said Cheryl. She beckoned Pam into a stall. The moment the door was locked, she pounced. 

 

Back in the gym, Lana and Archer were pretty drunk. 

“What even is this?” asked Lana, taking another huge swig and coughing.

“I’m not sure. My mother sent it to me. I think it might be, like, straight ethanol.” Lana passed the flask, and he took a sip. “With just a hint of rum flavoring.”

Lana laughed. “The way you said that, you acted like you’re at a wine tasting.”

Archer poured more liquid into his punch glass and swirled it around. He pretended to sniff it. “What a fine, uh, boutique-”

_ “Bouquet!” _

“Ah, that too, it’s exquisite.” He slurped from his glass and smacked his lips. “Do I detect a hint of Sharpie marker?”

Lana slapped his arm and laughed again. 

Just then, they both looked up. The music had changed drastically. After a second, they realized that the first slow dance of the night was starting. Lana looked at Archer.

He went totally red and said “Do you want to...uh...get some more punch?”

“No, asshole, I want to dance.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“No!”

“Oh. Uh…” he held out his arm. “May I? Or, I mean, may you? Or-”

She took his arm and smiled. He calmed down a little, and led her to the dance floor.

 

Ray was totally and completely lovesick. 

He and Krieger were slow dancing. Krieger had his hands on Ray’s waist, and their foreheads were together. Krieger’s eyes were closed, but Ray’s were wide open. He had never been held this way by a man. No one had ever wanted him like this, especially so publicly. Krieger was totally unashamed, holding Ray in his arms for the world to see. It seemed too good to be true. 

Krieger planted a light kiss on Ray’s lips and said, “I really like you.”

Ray said, “D’you want me to suck you off?”

Krieger laughed. “Is it weird that I just want to stay right here?” He pulled Ray closer and kissed his neck.

“That’s very, very weird.” He felt Krieger smile against his neck. “But I like it.”

As they swayed, Ray looked around over Krieger’s shoulder. He met Lana’s eyes and gave her a thumbs-up. He saw Katya dancing with Barry. She didn’t look like she was enjoying herself. He caught sight of E.Z. staring at him with contempt. Ray closed his eyes and bit down on Krieger’s neck as gently as he could. Krieger made a low sound and pulled Ray even closer.

When the music got fast again, they didn’t separate, they just made out audaciously right in the middle of the dance floor.

 

The moment the dance was over, the chaperones corralled the students back to their rooms. Several teachers in each hallway carried clipboards with rosters of students and what hall they belonged in. They took strict attendance to make sure everyone was in the right place. They knew damn well what goes on after a school dance.

When Ray and Krieger had to part, they kissed intensely. Krieger gave Ray a look that made him go weak in the knees. 

“G’night honey.”

Krieger muttered, “Good night,  _ Liebe _ .”

Ray had no idea what that meant, but he loved it. 


	8. The Hickey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i missed a couple updates...i dont want this to end. although i already have 2 other fics totally completed (one multichapter and a oneshot) and i started writing a non-au multichapter today!

In the weeks after homecoming, the group learned to avoid Krieger and Ray. Not all the time, but definitely when Ray started looking up at Krieger and batting his eyelashes. The two of them spent nearly every free moment together, but they were prone to making out as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, regardless of who was around.

Krieger was, to Ray’s surprise, an amazing kisser. And Ray was, to Krieger’s surprise, a more tender and attentive boy than his sluttiness suggested. There were many times that their hangouts didn’t even involve kissing. Ray was extremely intelligent and interesting, and Krieger wanted to know everything there was to know about him. This was mostly mutual, though Ray got the distinct feeling that there were some things about Krieger that were better left a mystery. 

 

They were sitting together at lunch. Ray was playing with Krieger’s scarf, braiding the tassels and gossiping.

Uninvited, Archer and Pam sat across from them.

“Hey, y’all.”

“Guess what,” said Archer.

Pam covered her face “Not  _ again!” _

Ray rolled his eyes. “What?”

“I totally fucked Lana last night.” He leaned back, clearly expecting praise, but no one really cared. Ray brushed the scarf tassels against Krieger’s jaw.

Krieger looked around. “Is no one gonna…?”

“Gonna what, babe?”

Krieger sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it. How was it, Archer?”

Archer laughed raucously and launched into a detailed description. Pam and Ray were disgusted, while Krieger seemed very interested, albeit in a clinical way.

When the word ‘slippery’ was introduced, Ray covered his ears. “ _ Stop!  _ Jesus, God, I’m  _ eating!” _ Archer’s lips stopped moving, but once Ray uncovered his ears, he started back up again. Ray slapped Krieger. “Damn you!”

“Me?”

“You got him started on this shit.”

“I was curious!”

“Don’t be such a pig!”

Pam turned to Archer. “Ray’s just pissed he and Krieger haven’t done the dirt.”

“They’re not even dating,” said Archer. “Not officially! Right, guys?”

Krieger was blushing. Before he could begin to formulate a response, Ray said, “That’s none of your damn beeswax!” 

That response was all too appropriate; Krieger felt as though it wasn’t any of  _ his _ business, either. He was dying to ask Ray what they should call their relationship, but he was terrified of scaring him off.

Archer just chuckled. “Don’t get all defensive. No one actually thinks you’re dating  _ Krieger _ , don’t worry. You and the school freak would be headline news.”

Ray looked at Krieger, who laughed halfheartedly (that little quip did nothing for his insecurities), then back to Archer. He said, “Mind your fuckin’ business. Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole to the only person on the planet who actually likes you, everyone would stop treating you like a little bitch.”

Krieger put his arm around Ray. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Maybe you should.” Ray was very protective of Krieger when it came to Archer. Ever since the confrontation with E.Z., he wanted nothing more than to protect Krieger from people who called him those terrible names. But he didn’t want to reveal exactly what Archer said; it would break Krieger’s heart, if he even believed it. The ideal situation would be if Archer had never called Krieger a Nazi in the first place, but that was apparently too much to ask.

Archer and Ray had been glaring at each other for some time. It was totally quiet, until Archer stood and said, “I’d rather be a little bitch than  _ Krieger’s _ little bitch.” He walked off.

Ray closed his eyes and sucked in through his teeth. Then, he turned to Krieger and resumed their earlier conversation as if nothing happened.

 

That evening, Krieger crept through the shelves of the library, looking for Ray. He found him in their favorite section (the most remote and undisturbed): the educational VHS tapes. Ray perked up the moment he saw Krieger.

“Hey, honey!” He frantically exited whatever game he was playing on his phone and opened his browser. “Look, I set up the WikiHow article, you come sit and I’ll read you the directions!”

They’d been trying to give Ray a hickey lately, to no avail so far. Apparently Ray decided it was time for desperate measures.

Krieger obediently took his seat behind Ray.

“Alright, it says step one is to ‘part your lips slightly and’-”

Krieger shifted uncomfortably. “Is it ok if I’m not in the mood for that right now?”

“Oh. Sure, baby, what’s goin’ on?”

“I have to talk to you.”

Ray scooted around on his butt until he was facing Krieger. “What’s up?”

“I know we’ve talked about this, but that was before we were...you know, together.”

“Alright…”

“It’s just...Archer is my friend, and I don’t appreciate when you-”

“Bitch, no, I am not-”

“Can you listen to me?”

“No! You know shit about Archer that I have no damn clue about, but lemme tell ya, there’s stuff you don’t know either.”

Krieger started to speak several times, before settling on, “What do you mean?”

“I mean: he’s not exactly  _ trustworthy.” _

“What makes you say that?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Krieger put his hands under Ray’s thighs and pulled him closer. “You can tell me,  _ Liebe.” _

Ray sighed. This was it. If he ever wanted to really protect Krieger, he needed him to know the truth, or he’d never keep Archer at arm’s length. “Oh, honey...Remember at homecoming, what E.Z. called you?”

Krieger nodded. 

“Well, Archer’s said that exact thing before. Y’know? He called you a...a Nazi. And he was bein’ real obnoxious, and I wasn’t gonna tell you, but-”

“When was this?”

“When me and Archer had that fight. That’s the dumb shit he was saying. He just wouldn’t let it go.” Krieger didn’t respond for a long time. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Krieger wasn’t surprised, but the information still filled him with burning anger. He spent so much time defending Archer for such little loyalty in return.

When he finally replied, he looked Ray in the eyes. “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“So...you fought for  _ me?” _

“I guess so!”

Krieger smiled. He was obviously still troubled, but Ray’s protectiveness seemed to warm his heart a bit. Ray leaned forward and kissed his nose. Krieger held Ray’s hips and kissed his chin.

“I’m sorry, honey lamb,” said Ray, stroking Krieger’s hair while he kissed Ray’s neck.

_ “ _ _ Não se preocupe.” _

“What’s that mean?”

“It means ‘turn your head’.” He took Ray’s cheek in his hand and guided his head so his neck was exposed. He buried his face in the crook of Ray’s neck and sucked at the skin there until it bruised perfectly. He didn’t even need the WikiHow article, just the little bit of outrage he’d experienced was enough to eliminate his hesitation. Something about marking Ray after knowing he’d fought for his honor was incredibly enticing. Let everyone who mistreated him see the mark. Let everyone who stood by get an eyeful. Let the boy who called him names and then tried to kiss him even though they both knew he didn’t give a  _ shit _ see it.

When they were through, Ray looked up at him, red and beaming. He had a winning smile. Krieger gently rubbed the lovebite (which he insisted on calling a  _ Knutschfleck _ ) and wondered what to do. 

 

Krieger spent the next several days mulling over the new information. The more he thought about it, the more layers arose, stoking the fire even more.

Some of the things he realized were good, like Ray fighting for him. Others were bad, like the fact Archer had the nerve to say horrible things about him behind his back, and then punch him two seconds later. Krieger felt incredibly guilty for having texted Ray angrily the night of the fight, and admired how gracious Ray was about it. 

Ray’s reluctance to tell him what Archer had said wasn’t lost on him. At first, it angered Krieger. He felt like a fool. But he knew that Ray was only trying to protect him.

That thought made his heart flutter. Ray was really running around fighting for him, protecting him, defending him...kissing him, hugging him, respecting him. Krieger appreciated Ray with incredible fervor. He was dying to tell Ray the extent of his affection, but didn’t think it was appropriate to do so without a clear idea of what their relationship was.

He knew all of his problems had answers, but he was searching for them in the dark.

 

While Krieger was stuck in his own head, Ray did his best to cheer him up. 

They didn’t bring up the Archer incident again, but they both felt the tension. Ray tried to break this tension with romance and overt sexuality. It wasn’t difficult. His complete and utter captivation was genuine, so he just stopped filtering himself: When they kissed, Ray didn’t hesitate to smile into Krieger’s lips. He melted when Krieger put an arm around him. He flirted with absolutely no shame, and didn’t care about the sheer corniness of what he was saying. He sent the raunchiest, filthiest Snapchat videos he could think of, at 12 A.M. and 12 P.M. alike.

He wanted nothing more than Krieger’s attention. 

He honestly didn’t understand what Krieger was going through. He didn’t understand why he didn’t just drop Archer. He didn’t understand why anyone would give that asshole so many chances. What was Krieger deliberating? The school’s resident piece of shit turns out to be a piece of shit, and that’s a surprise?

It never occurred to Ray that there was a lot he didn’t know.

 

_ It was summer in New York City. Krieger had been 15 for a month, and it was by far the craziest month of his life. Back at the compound, it got pretty out of hand sometimes, but at least there he had value. Not to mention people who cared for him, time to learn, pets he loved...until everything got eaten alive and his life turned to bare bones. _

_ Working at the agency gave Krieger the freedom to flex his scientific muscles, but it was hard. In the month he’d lived in America, he hadn’t left the building once. He was one of the minutemen. _

_ He and several of the other scientists stayed on premises at all times, ready to calibrate equipment, modify weaponry, gather data and spit it back out to the field agents in bite-sized pieces, even perform emergency medical procedures that couldn’t be done in a hospital - not without awkward questions. _

_ Krieger was the youngest scientist at the agency by about 20 years. The hard work kept him up at odd hours, and he was too high-strung to make up the lost sleep. When there was nothing he was allowed to do (his only limit was the authority of the others; there was always something he  _ could  _ be doing) he wandered around, getting people coffee and eavesdropping. But the others always called him back to the lab before he got any interesting information.  _

_ In some ways, he felt like one of the experiments. _

_ He didn’t miss the compound, but he missed his father. He wasn’t Krieger’s real father, of course, but he was his guardian. His father raised him at arm’s length. But they grew attached to each other, somewhat, or so Krieger hoped. _

_ His old life wasn’t particularly joyful, but it was certainly interesting. _

_ He wasn’t allowed to wear his scarf in the agency laboratory. The loose threads might catch fire, or even dissolve in some beaker full of illegal chemicals. During the day, Krieger often yearned to stroke it, but he wasn’t supposed to be in his room during work hours, which was most hours. _

 

_ It was summer in New York City. It was an awkward time of year for Sterling: school was out, but lacrosse camp hadn’t yet started. Rather than let him enjoy his free time (though she called it “sitting idle like you’re hourly”), Malory brought her son to work with her. Unfortunately, since Sterling wasn’t even authorized to shake hands with those who were allowed to gaze upon the extremely classified information at the agency, he was left alone in the breakroom by 9 A.M. _

_ But he was never one to follow orders. By 9:07 he’d stumbled upon the most disturbingly awesome thing he’d ever seen. _

_ He’d snuck into the laboratory and found some sort of weaponized bird creature. He wasn’t sure if it was real or a robot. He stepped closer to its cage… _

_ “Who are you?” Sterling jumped violently and turned to see who spoke. It was a boy his age, dressed in office clothes and a lab coat. _

_ “I’m, uh...an intern.” _

_ “I said  _ who  _ are you, not  _ what  _ are you.” The boy crossed his arms. _

_ “Sterling Archer.” He held out his hand, but the boy didn’t take it. “Who’re you?” _

_ “Krieger.” _

_ “Just Krieger?” _

_ “ _ Ja _.” _

_ “That’s kind of dumb.” _

_ “ _ Es ist u nverfroren. _ Cool people go by the last name.” _

_ “Whatever.” Archer turned around and approached the bird again. “Did you build this?” _

_ “ _ Nein _. But I helped.” _

_ “Are there more?” _

_ “ _ Ja, _ but I cannot show you.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ Krieger shifted uncomfortably.  _ “Sie waren Misserfolge _...Failures.” _

_ “You should build an alligator version.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Uh, because they’re awesome?” _

_ Krieger strode over to a filing cabinet and selected a thick binder. He flipped through until he got to the page he wanted. “I think so, too,” he said. “Come see.” _

_ Archer skimmed the file. The first several pages were statistics and research. The rest was documentation of the experiments the agency had performed on alligators. He wasn’t paying very much attention to the text, but some of the diagrams and photos were too horrifying to ignore. _

_ “Gross,” said Sterling. There was a lot of carnage in the photographs, and a lot of new information in the margins. Sterling wasn’t sure what a “Newton” was, but a bite force of 16,460 of them was almost certainly too many. He'd have to look into this. _

_ Trauma aside, they ended up killing the whole day together. They actually spent a whole two weeks together, running around the agency, neglecting their duties but having a lot of fun doing it. _

_ When he got to camp, Sterling started going by his last name. _

 

Pam and Cheryl were talking, but Ray wasn’t listening. He was on the edge of his seat, his hands clasped in front of his face, watching Krieger and Archer across the cafeteria. After days of careful contemplation, Krieger was finally executing a confrontation. Ray was worried. He knew that even if the interaction went perfectly, it was going to be far from painless, and his knowledge of what Archer was like only increased his wariness. He really, really didn’t want to, but if Archer hurt Krieger, he was willing to fight again.

After a surprisingly short amount of time, Krieger walked back over and took his seat next to Ray. 

“What happened, honey?”

Krieger didn’t respond right away. “He said ‘sorry’. I told him I knew what he said, and he didn’t know what I meant at first...It wasn’t such a big deal to him. But in the end he said he was sorry.”

“And what’d you say?”

“I said, ‘I forgive you, but I’m not ready to stop being angry at you.’”

That wasn’t what Ray expected. He thought Krieger was going to instantly fall for whatever half-assed apology Archer gave him, and go back to being a total doormat. He couldn’t help but feel like he was partially responsible for Krieger’s confidence. 

Ray said, “I’m proud of you.”

_ “Danke.” _

“You’re better off without him.”

“He’s still my friend.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll be keepin’ an eye on him.” 

He put an arm around Krieger, who relaxed at the touch. Krieger loved when Ray held him. He had strong arms from cheerleading, and he always smelled sweet. 

Krieger kissed Ray’s cheek and said, “You’re my cherry blossom.” 

Cheryl threw a piece of lettuce at them and said, “Gay!”

Pam threw a cherry tomato at her. “You’re gay, dicknuts!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Wha - Cheryl, do you have, like, memory loss?”

“What happens at homecoming doesn’t count. Everyone knows that.”

Pam just rolled her eyes.

_ “Eles estão loucos,” _ muttered Krieger.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means they’re crazy people.”

“Oh. I was hoping it meant, ‘Let’s head to the locker room before you get called to the bio lab because the mice are missing again’.”

“They’re not missing.  _ I _ know exactly where they are.” 


	9. Cherry Coke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! Did you like it?

“Where were you?” Archer had just sat down for dinner, and was already being accosted by Lana. 

“What’re you talking about?”

“You were supposed to meet me in the courtyard after class. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. It was cold.”

“It was cold.”

“Yeah, Lana, it’s mid-November, it’s freaking cold!”

“So you just left me sitting out there by myself?!”

Pam leaned over to Cheryl and whispered, “D’you think they care that we’re sitting right here?”

Cheryl said, “Jeez, personal space!”

Lana and Archer continued bickering until Cyril sat down.

“Cyril,” said Lana, “If your girlfriend was outside in the cold, would you just  _ leave her there?” _

“You mean,” said Archer, “If your girlfriend was dumb enough to-”

“Don’t call  _ me _ dumb!” 

Cyril just blinked and said, “Well, I, uh, don’t have a girlfriend, so it’s irrelevant.”

“Ok, how about this.” She was struggling not to throttle the two of them. “Do you think Krieger would leave Ray out in the cold? All alone?”

Archer rolled his eyes. “Typical! Making Ray the girlfriend? We all know it, but we don’t  _ say _ it. You’re so heteronormative.”

“ _ I’m _ a bi woman!”

“Nevertheless! Anyway, they’re not even dating, officially, so who cares?”

Pam choked on her chicken tender. “Still?! Goddamn!”

“I know, right?”

“Well...are they dating  _ un _ officially?”

“I actually have no idea.” He looked left and right. “Where are they, anyway? Krieger never misses dinner.”

Pam chuckled. “And Ray never misses a chance to suck on Krieger’s-”

“Don’t!”

“ _ -Face _ , dingdong!”

 

Krieger was in the biology lab, avoiding Ray. The tension of not knowing what their relationship was grew too strong to bear. He was desperate to ask, but not nearly confident enough. 

Little did he know, Ray was headed up to the lab to ask that very question.

Ray poked his head in the door. When he didn’t see Krieger, he called, “Babe?”

He heard a thump and a  _ “Scheisse!” _ and Krieger appeared. 

“What the hell were you doin’?”

“Nothing,  _ Liebe!” _ He glanced behind him as Ray approached. “What’re you doing here? Not that I mind.”

“I just missed you.” He wrapped his arms around Krieger and kissed him deeply. It was his last chance to entice Krieger before possibly ruining what they had together.

When they separated, they said in unison, “Can we talk?” and “We gotta have a little talk.”

Ray smiled nervously. “You go first, honey.”

Krieger took Ray’s hand and led him behind the lab counter. They sat in front of the huge sink. Ray was tempted to sit on Krieger’s lap, but decided it wasn’t the time.

Krieger sat there and ran a hand through his hair before finally saying, “Are we...friends?”

“Are we what?”

“Friends?”

“Friends. You’re askin’ me if we’re friends?”

“Um... _ Ja.” _

“Do you wanna be?”

Krieger hesitated. “Yes, I do.”

Ray was outraged. He thought he’d be sad when he was rejected, but he was absolutely  _ outraged _ . “Are you serious?”

“Yes,  _ Liebe _ , I-”

“Oh, don’t call me that.” He stood up. “I can’t believe this shit.”

“What shit?”

“Although I don’t know  _ why _ I can’t believe it. Men! Y’know? What did I expect?”

Krieger looked frightened. “What do you mean?”

“I  _ mean- _ ” his accent was strong, now, “-after all the dumbass fairytale shit you said to me, after all the shit I went through standin’ up for your ass, all the times I chugged your cum like it was goddamn  _ Cherry Coke,  _ you’re tellin’  _ me _ you wanna be friends!”

Krieger was on the verge of tears. He looked like he was trying to develop a response (Ray hoped he was; he couldn’t  _ wait _ to hear it) for a minute or two before silently taking out his phone.

“What the hell’re you doing?”

“Looking for something.” He clicked around for a little while. When he found what he was looking for, he gasped, and held the screen up to Ray.

Ray glared at it. It was some ESL site. On the screen it said:

 

_ Deutsch:  _ **_Freund_ **

 

_ Englisch:  _ **_friend; pal; boyfriend; connoisseur._ **

 

“So?” Ray snapped. He didn’t get it.

“In German it’s all the same word. I meant  _ boyfriend _ . I meant to ask if we’re boyfriends!”

Ray covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh my God.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think I would mess up something so simple, so I didn’t double che-”

Ray threw his arms around Krieger. “Don’t apologize, you dumb idiot!  _ I’m _ sorry!”

“Don’t be,  _ Liebe _ .” He stroked his boyfriend’s hair. 

“I’m so mean! I feel like an ass. Do you still even wanna be my...y’know…?”

Krieger pulled Ray onto his lap. “You’re not mean. You’re the best  _ Freund _ in the world.” 

Ray kissed his boyfriend. He was gentle at first, but soon he was taking all the catharsis of the past few minutes and pouring it into that kiss.

After a long while, Ray broke the kiss and whispered, “I know we’ve only been dating for 10 minutes, but can I tell you something?”

Krieger’s eyes widened. “10 minutes?!  _ Você levanta!”  _ He jumped up, almost dumping Ray onto the floor.

“What is it?!”

Krieger scurried to the wall of the lab and felt around. He moved a secret panel out of the way and stuck his head in. 

“What the hell is that?”

_ “Danke Gott…”  _ he removed his head and beckoned to Ray. “Come look.”

Ray gingerly approached the hole and peered inside. 

He saw what looked like a hamster playground, full of pipes and wheels and little jugs of water, but with three mice running around. There was a lamp, rigged with several extension cords that reached far back into the walls. He looked at Krieger, who had produced a box of mouse feed seemingly out of thin air. 

“What do you think?” said Krieger, pouring food into the little dispenser. Ray recognized Klaus.

“Baby...I love it.”

Krieger smiled and replaced the secret panel. “ _ Danke _ . So, what were you going to say?”

Ray took both of Krieger’s hands and pulled him close. “I love you.”

Krieger grinned. “Oh. I love you, too.”

Ray kissed his nose. “Now, let's go get dinner!”

They were especially lovey-dovey that evening, but nobody really minded.

**Author's Note:**

> Many of these headcanons were developed with or by my friend Damien, aka peilneart or caressofkrieger on tumblr! (He's solely responsible for curly-hair Krieger, and the title of this fic!)  
> Did you enjoy? Let me know!


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